A Community In Celebration

Wednesday afternoon erupted like carnival in CM-ardenas, EliM-an's provincial hometown, as television and radio reports of the boy's return spilled into the streets.

For a moment, it seemed Cuba's crippling shortages were cast aside, the town's dusty streets and crumbling colonial buildings were forgotten and CM-ardenas was wrapped in a celebration.

Just two hours after the U.S. Supreme Court announced it would not hear EliM-an's case, a caravan of 27 buses, escorted by police and a tow truck, rolled through CM-ardenas' narrow streets to pick up more than 1,000 of EliM-an's classmates from the Marcelo Salado Primary School and ferry them to Havana's JosM-i MartM-m Airport, where they greeted their famous schoolmate, cheering and chanting: "EliM-an! EliM-an! EliM-an!"

As parents loaded their children into the buses, many described EliM-an's return as a victory for the Cuban people and the revolution, adopting the rallying cries and nationalistic rhetoric the Cuban government has used for seven months.

Joel Martinez, who is studying to become a chef at a nearby resort community, said EliM-an's return was the greatest day in the history of this town.

"EliM-an is another symbol for us to fight for, like our flag or our hymn. I don't know if that is good or bad, but the United States created this problem with their politics," said Martinez, 28, as he waved goodbye to his son, Victor, 7, who was headed for Havana. "We're not asking for anything. We just want what's ours. That boy belongs to CM-ardenas."

In Cuba, EliM-an is hailed as a hero, a prodigal son held hostage by the right wing Cuban-American "Mafia." Others choose to see EliM-an GonzM-alez as a boy messiah, one who survived in the face of certain death.

"For me he is a miracle child, I'll always see him that way," said EliM-an's great-aunt, Iraida GonzM-alez, the sister of EliM-an's great-uncle LM-azaro GonzM-alez, who led the legal battle to keep EliM-an in Miami. Like so many other Cuban families divided by geography and ideology, the GonzM-alez family has been split in their struggle over the little boy's fate.

Iraida GonzM-alez, 67, said she could not foresee a reconciliation between the two branches of her family, one in Miami, the other in CM-ardenas. "They may be fighting all their lives," she said. "I hope time heals this wound, but I may not be alive by then."

As she watched the plane take off from Dulles International near Washington on television, Iraida GonzM-alez's thoughts were with Elisabeth Brotons, EliM-an's mother, who drowned along with 10 others after their boat sank in the Florida Straits.

"She sacrificed so much," Iraida GonzM-alez said. "All I could think of was her. She was such a sweet girl. He is going to suffer his whole life because she is not with him."

If EliM-an's father, Juan Miguel GonzM-alez, has his way, the family's days in the United States will gradually fade away and be replaced with the life they once had in their modest home on Cosio Street. His loyalty to Cuba is praised with the fervor normally reserved for the island's revolutionary heroes.

"They offered him everything on a silver platter," said Enrique Napoles, a self-employed Havana handyman. "He turned them down and now he's on his way back to face the same daily hardships we all face. He really is a patriot."

Though the boy's future here is unclear, some believe it will be possible for the world's most famous first-grader to return to the life he once had here.

"I think he will have a normal life here. He can be just like any other boy," said Elsa Alfonso, the mother of Arianne Horta, one of two adults who survived the ill-fated trip along with EliM-an and now lives in Hialeah. Alfonso is now taking care of Estefany, the 5-year-old daughter Horta left behind in CM-ardenas at the last moment.

On Wednesday, neighbors hung hand-written cardboard signs on EliM-an's block in preparation for a homecoming. The message was meant to draw the whole town into one boy's saga. It read: "Your hometown defended you."

Vanessa BauzM-a can be reached at vbauza@sun-sentinel.com or 305-810-5007.